


Resumed

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 10, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But why does Castiel expose these shortcomings to Crowley? He is a proud bird, all chest puffs and righteousness. Should Cas require sleep, surely he would feel more comfortable alone. Or with the Hardy Boys, perhaps? </p>
<p>Not sharing a bed with the King of Hell. Sworn enemy. Ex-business partner... Ex-everything.</p>
<p>--<br/>General Season 10 spoilers, takes place between Episodes 10x03 - 10x14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resumed

**Author's Note:**

> Super behind on posting Tumblr prompt responses to AO3, sorry all! 
> 
> I received this Ask:
> 
> _Cas laying boneless on Crowley's chest after too many orgasms. Crowley waking up to some noise, with Cas sound asleep using him as a pillow, and being instantly alert because he has to protect two, now. Cas resting his head on Crowley's tummy after blowing him and the next thing they know they're discussing heaven/hell politics and he still hasn't moved from his new favorite spot in the whole universe. Headcanon on headcanon: this is a new development. S6!cas never let himself relax like this._
> 
> This is total PWP, no shame ^_-

Crowley did say Cas would owe him. He just did not specify how. 

Crowley is on top. He pushes Castiel’s thighs further apart, spreading Castiel's ass and pressing his weight down. Castiel stretches under him. He's drawn so tight, Crowley can feel him shake. He is reaching that cursed line of physical limitation, the poor pet.

They are both messes. The angel more so, his stomach streaked with drying cum. He is flush-faced and sweating, his brow wrinkled and eyes shut. They are two orgasms down in mere hours of play. Crowley allows himself a smirk. Castiel needed this, if his willingness is any indication. Nice to be wanted.

“Open those eyes, Cas,” Crowley says. 

Castiel exhales between clenched teeth. He does not open his eyes.

A sound knots in his throat when Crowley gives his cock head a flick. Castiel's poor vessel is overused, overspent. Red and raw, smeared with oil and cum. Dirty, disgusting. Sexy as all get out.

“Castiel.” Crowley grinds against him, drawing a moan. What a sound. His inner demon pulses with hunger. 

“Open your eyes, Castiel,” he repeats. 

Blue appears between fenced lashes, pleasure glistening like tears.

Crowley makes a low sound and bites at Cas’ chin. He squeezes his cock and fills him deep. 

Tight, rapid thrusts make Castiel moan again, weaker this time. His knees squeeze tight around Crowley’s waist. 

Fresh wetness spurts under Crowley’s hand. A filthy mess. The opposite of Heaven.

Crowley grunts when he comes, cursing against Castiel's neck. He buries hard enough to bruise the angel's ass. Pity, Castiel's borrowed grace will likely be too weak to heal himself. 

Crowley is all grin as he flops to the side. Castiel rolls with him, a hand draped over his belly.

“I forgot what a wonderful whore you make.” Crowley chuckles.

There is no response. Not the slightest grouse or glare. 

Crowley smirks. “Three in one night is an achievement, even for God’s favorite! I should get credit for that grace I procured for you," he preens. "Knight in shining armor and all that.”

Again, nothing. Crowley lifts his head.

Castiel's eyes are closed, his head tucked against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Castiel?” Crowley tries. No response.

...Is he asleep? Does he need to sleep, even with this new grace?

Crowley frowns and gives the angel a shake. A muffled, “Hm?” answers him.

“I don’t recall inviting you to stay,” Crowley mutters.

Castiel sighs and fits closer to his side.

The King of Hell does not appreciate being shown up like this. Hell permits visitors only when he allows them! 

But, this development is unexpected. Crowley finds himself more intrigued than angry.

He snaps his fingers. Their bodies become clean.

Awkwardly, Crowley wraps his arm around Castiel. He stares at the ceiling, fingers drawing on the angel's shoulder.

***

A snap. Crowley’s eyes open.

He had been in thought. These interludes allow time to ponder his state of affairs, if nothing else. 

He glances to the side, but it seems the angel is none the wiser. Castiel’s face rests close to his. Hard, steady breaths burst against Crowley’s jaw. Even in sleep, his forehead has a furrow to it.

What Crowley thought was a one time oddity has become commonplace. Castiel remains with him after their trysts. Relaxed. Vulnerable.

It is the stolen grace, Crowley tells himself. Even with this fresh dose of the divine, the angel is fading. As his power dims, he shows more signs of mortality. Weakness, yes. Physical and emotional. 

But why does Castiel expose these shortcomings to Crowley? He is a proud bird, all chest puffs and righteousness. Should Cas require sleep, surely he would feel more comfortable alone. Or with the Hardy Boys, perhaps? 

Not sharing a bed with the King of Hell. Sworn enemy. Ex-business partner... Ex-everything.

Castiel mumbles and slides a hand up Crowley chest. His fingers curl lazily against the demon’s collar bone.

Crowley frowns and looks around. He heard something. Or did he? There are no signs of trespassing, no magic or warding. Did Crowley imagine the threat? Work himself to a panic over nothing?

Panic. Hm.

Crowley laces his fingers with the napping fool’s. He pecks a reluctant kiss to his temple.

Castiel's sigh sounds suspiciously like Crowley’s name.

The demon should mock him for this ridiculousness. Instead, he squints into every corner of his chambers for signs of danger. Nothing shows itself. Crowley allows himself to relax.

Ugh, human blood. Will he ever be rid of these damned feelings?

***

“Ah-” Crowley half-laughs and half-gasps. He stutters the sound in succession and palms the back of the angel’s head. His waist twitches and cock jumps between wet lips.

There are few sights greater than an Angel of the Lord swallowing for a demon. Castiel’s cheeks draw in as he urges Crowley through orgasm. His hands set on Crowley’s hips, pinning them to the mattress. 

With a slow lick to his cock head, Castiel releases him. His cheek settles against the demon’s stomach.

Crowley blinks at the ceiling. “Not bad,” he offers. Castiel scoffs but says nothing.

They remain like this awhile. Longer than Crowley realizes. 

Dazed, he finds his fingers threaded through Castiel’s hair. The angel is awake, but his head remains against Crowley’s stomach. 

“Where will you be off to after this?” Crowley asks. 

Castiel takes time to answer. Crowley feels his exhales ghost across his belly. 

“I will resume my search for Cain, I suppose.”

“Ah, yes,” Crowley murmurs. “And your massacre of demons, I take it?”

Castiel smiles. Crowley cannot see the expression, but he feels lips curve against his skin. “You’ve yet to intercede on their behalf.”

Crowley snorts at the insinuation. “You’ve caught the stupid ones,” he reasons, defensive. “They deserve to be weeded out. Darwinism and what not.”

“Some would call that blasphemy.” Castiel chuckles under his breath. “Humanity gets so much so wrong. How did that happen?”

Crowley tucks an arm behind his head. “They are simple creatures,” he says. “And selfish. Many choose to be wrong for the sake of convenience.”

Castiel hums. He traces fingers along Crowley’s hip bone. “Did you believe, Crowley?” he asks.

“Pardon?”

“When you were human, in your first life. Did you believe?”

Crowley does not like this question. He decides not to answer it. 

But, after a moment, he changes his mind. “Yes,” he admits. 

“You believed, but you still sold your soul-”

“I believed, and I hated.” Crowley pulls Castiel’s hair, forcing him to turn upward. The angel’s eyes are frustratingly calm. “I grew up in the dirt. No father, a lying whore of a mother. I suffered in this stupid world. While, around me, they professed love to an Almighty no one could see.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I believed. I hated the bastard. Hate him still.“ 

Crowley grits his teeth against the angel’s silence. "Give me your righteousness then. Go on. Pull that pretty blade, burn those eyes blue.”

Castiel's response is worse. He closes his eyes and does nothing. His thumb resumes its slow path along Crowley’s hip.

“Just going to lie there?” Crowley mutters.

“Yes.”

The quickness of the answer catches Crowley off-guard. “What the hell for?” Castiel does not answer.

After a moment, Crowley begins to stroke Castiel’s hair like before. 

He does not understand what this means, or why. Perhaps it is better if he never does.

*The End*

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! I'm also on [Tumblr](http://daisy4days.tumblr.com).


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